Trigger Finger
by InMyOwnWay
Summary: This story doesn't really fit into any season. AU.


It's always like this; frustration and tension and sex in the air. It started that second summer, the night after they caught that gruesome serial rapist/killer. It was hot and when they found him, he was alone with his two latest victims. Their guts were everywhere and he just sat in the concrete block room with blood everywhere. She remembers thinking that she had never seen so much blood. Everywhere and those two girls bodies were rotting in the heat. And the smell stayed in her nose for days. Rotting blood and guts. And when did this become what she did on a hot Sunday afternoon? Always. It was always what she did and she had reminded herself of that as she led Goren to the car. Later that night, three summers ago, as he was pushing into her and she was groping at his shoulders, swearing and cumming around him, she still smelt the rotting blood in her nose. Just like she smelt it when she told the first girl's parents and then the second girls parents. And when the Mayor himself had paused after the news conference and patted them on the back. She had smelt it for days. Three years later, three summers later, she is on her back on Goren's fake-wood dining table. He is over her, feet on the floor, driving into her, grinding her and using his thumb to stroke her. Her light summer dress is pushed up to her waist. Her heels are still on and her ankles are locked around his waist. The oddest thought passes over her. She finds herself wondering if those girl's parents were okay. She thinks maybe she'll look them up on Monday, go visit them, but then she thinks maybe she won't. Nothing worse than to have the detective who caught your daughter's rapist/killer show up at your door. She can hear herself now, 'Uhmm, yeah, I've been having a personal crisis of self and was wondering, how are you and how did I impact your life?' It'd go over great. She realizes Goren is staring down at her, dark irises questioning. She reminds herself that she's supposed to be here, now, cumming and wills herself to liquefy. In the end, she convinces him, she hopes, that she did and now she's poking around his dining room/kitchen area looking for her panties. He's watching her, she can feel his eyes and she thinks maybe he wasn't fooled. God, how pathetic if your stand-by fuck can't get you anymore, if you're so screwed up that not even your 'off-limits' partner can make you cum. The silence sits there, so she breaks it.

"Did you notice where...?" Where you threw my panties after you ripped them off my body? Her voice trails off when she turns to him. His boxers are back on and he's standing there, bare-chested, staring.

"You're staring." He shakes his head, out of his stare, and smiles apologetically.

He walks to the corner of the room and leans behind the couch, producing said panties. They are black with faint pink stars and he balls them in his hand and walks them back to her. She smiles a 'thank you' and balances against his shoulder while slipping them on. She stands for a moment, her hand on his shoulder and then reaches up and pecks his cheek. He smiles and leans into her lips.

A second later, she has her handbag and keys and is to the door.

"Sunglasses," he says and meets her halfway.

She nods and almost make it out the door before he says, "You shouldn't be upset about Iverson."

Eames freezes, hand on the doorway and tilts just a little. "I'm not."

"You shouldn't be."

A smile is plastered to her lips when she faces him.

"I'm really not." He nods, placating her. He takes a step towards her.

"You're inside your head right now," his arms shoot up in defense, "and you know, I get it. I just...you did what you had to. Don't question yourself."

She shrugs and then says quietly, in a voice Bobby doesn't recognize, "I'm not."

"You are," he returns, just as quietly. She nods and a beat passes before she looks up and smiles.

"You going to see your mom?" He nods. "I'm going to Mass with my parents." He nods. "I'll see you tomorrow." He nods.

She doesn't realize that she's shaking until she's at the car, putting the key in the door. But she also knows that he is at his window, watching her so she forces the key in and waves before sliding into the trapped heat. She instantly opens the sunroof and rolls down the windows and is two blocks away before a tear escapes. Just one, she allows, but then she blasts the music until she finds herself rolling down the streets of her childhood.

Her dad always wants to hear about the latest case so she tells him just enough to satisfy his appetite but not enough to give anything away. She tells him about how Violet had played with her boyfriend's emotions, promising him companionship in return for items and how Violet had tried to play Goren.

Her father laughs, "I bet Goren played along. I bet it was hilarious." She nods and smiles and forgets that she shot the boyfriend for a few moments.

Her mother made carrot cake and it's Goren's favorite and her mother knows this. There is already a piece wrapped up by the time she extracts herself from her family's grasps.

She kisses her parents and walks out the door and envies her family. No one else shot a boy this week. No one else took a life. She hears laughter erupt as she gets in the car.

She testifies at the evidentiary hearing for Violet's case the next morning. Bobby is waiting for her on the steps of the courthouse. She smiles and tells him about the carrot cake that is sitting on the front seat of her car. He tells her to thank her mother. She nods.

"I offered to testify, so you wouldn't have to. Carver turned me down."

She rolls her eyes, "Of course he did."

Goren is grinning, "He said he wants to avoid contempt of court." She laughs.

"It's Judge Wallace. I'd have to sneak your carrot cake into Riker's."

Inside, they sit in the ally and wait for the hearing to begin. She is the first witness and so by nine thirty she is sitting on the witness stand, describing the scene she and Goren had walked into on Wednesday of last week. She describes Violet, wearing her $2,000 dollar dress and the heavy diamond on her finger. She describes Iverson, panicked and desperate to keep his girlfriend, his companion, waving the gun and firing into the wall above Goren's head. And then she describes drawing her gun and tapping twice and calling for EMS.

This defense attorney hates she and Goren. Loathes them. They have screwed her over one too many times. Goren has inevitably danced around or yelled or, one time, sang, in each interrogation she has been privy to. Eames sits calmly, waiting for the storm and is not surprised when the attorney starts down the path to her previous shootings. They go through each one, each life she has taken. She gives the attorney one word answers, terse and pointed. She can see Bobby in the back of the room. He is twitching and shifting and driving the woman seated next to him batty. She would laugh, if she weren't busy. The examination continues for one half hour until finally, Carver stands to object. 'What took him so long,' she thinks.

"Your Honor, Detective Eames history as a honored officer and detective isn't in question. I think we've established that her shootings were all straight and by the book." The judge agrees.

"Just one more question Detective. You're partner, Detective Goren was standing in rather close proximity to the spot where the bullet entered the wall, correct?"

"That's correct."

"Is it safe to say that you would not have fired your weapon, had your partner not been so close to the shot?"

"No." Her answer is clear, concise and to the point.

"You and your partner have been in many of these situations before. It's always you, not your partner, that fires your weapon. Are you trigger-happy?"

'No' is repeated and the untrained ear notices no change. Bobby, however, knows the up and downs and the small rises that occur with the different emotions she experiences. Better than she does. Bobby hears a softer 'no', a slower 'no', a less sure 'no'.

They walk out to the car and Bobby smiles at his carrot cake. He makes a joke about her mother and her baking but Eames just smiles and they drive to 1PP in silence. There is paperwork, stacks of it, and she is already tired. In the elevator, he brings his hand to her back and rests it, unimposing. She leans back and closes her eyes and they have a moment before they step into chaos, theory and murder.

The doors open with a chime and she steps out first, Goren a step behind.

He takes the forms they both hate and starts typing away. She feels in the easy stuff, taking her time and getting up every fifteen minutes. She finds something to do. First she refills their coffee, then goes to the bathroom, then water, then coffee again. At one o'clock, he stands and leads her to the elevator. They eat lunch at her favorite deli and he buys.

"Goren, I can get my own lunch."

He nods but still buys both. The rest of the day is spent in silence and by five thirty, the buzzing in her ear is starting to make her whole body buzz. She can feel it in her feet and she stands abruptly. He looks up to see her gathering her things.

"I'm gonna go." He nods and watches her walk away.

Two hours later, she is halfway drunk and sitting on her kitchen floor, a glass of vodka and cranberry almost gone. She hears the knock and her brain registers that it's Goren's knock but she ignores it. She hears the key in the lock and hears the doorknob click open and hears Goren, through the chained door.

"Eames?" She swallows and stands and unhooks the chain. She stands in front of the door. He walks in with food.

"How much vodka?"

"Not much."

"I brought food." She nods and they eat in near silence. Goren cleans up the mess and then they sit, too close for partners but not touching. Minutes pass. Suddenly, his eyes are on her and she almost moves across the room. Instead, she looks at him.

His fingers move back some stray hair and then he whispers, "You are not trigger-happy." She nods. "You're quick," he continues, "and you're a better aim than I am and that's all it is." She nods. Her face turns away from him.

He is at her ear now, still whispering, "You didn't cum yesterday." She has never been so still. More whispering, "I'm going to make you cum tonight. In a bed. Properly."

She nods, breaking her statuesque pose.

He stands and pulls her with him and then leads them to her bed. And for the first time, in the three years they have used each other out of proximity and frustration, she cums in a bed. Properly. Multiple times. It is slow and he is selfless until the very end and there is no fucking, just slow, slow lovemaking. And after, he whispers in her ear all the things he feels and promises he wants nothing from her in return. He just wants her to listen and feel what she wants and know that he realizes that nothing is solved.

For the first time since Wednesday of last week, she doesn't smell rotting teenage girls but instead she smells Goren all around her and it's a little intoxicating. And she drifts into sleep, aware that Goren is watching but not minding so much.


End file.
